


I Just Miss Your Accent and Your Friends

by bubblegumclouds



Category: 1917 (Movie 2019)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Flower Crowns, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Sleepiness, World War I
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:47:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22615858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bubblegumclouds/pseuds/bubblegumclouds
Summary: Tom and Blake making flowercrowns on the battlefield.
Relationships: Tom Blake/William Schofield
Kudos: 62





	I Just Miss Your Accent and Your Friends

**Author's Note:**

> Yes I named this after 'Cherry' by Harry Styles because they're cherry blossoms, no I don't care. Sorry for the end!

“This one is an autumn cherry,” Blake said enthusiastically, plucking a part off and twisting it daintily between his fingers, studying it. Schofield was watching Blake intently, a shy smile hinting at his lips as he studied the muddy yet soft skin and the rosy tint to Blake’s lips. The sun hadn’t burnt Blake as it had him, it gave him a golden glow, made him shimmer. Sometimes, if the sun caught Blake _just_ right, you couldn’t see the dirt and Schofield could almost imagine they were at home. Safe.

“Is it?” Schofield asked after a while of nothingness, dazed, just hoping Blake would talk more so the drawl of his voice could continue soaking over him like the sun above them.   
"Oi you, I know you ain’t listenin’?” Blake chuckled, elbowing Schofield’s side with a laugh. That beautiful innocent expression that Schofield adored so deeply. Schofield shook his head in dismissal.  
“Sorry, just... tired,” Schofield sighed and Blake looked over, a sympathetic pout gracing his lips.

He left it at that and they lay quietly, enjoying the moment when their hands touched between the wispy blades of grass. Blake slid their fingers together without a moment's hesitation. Schofield could feel all the scrapes, scratches and pieces of mud that adorned his partner’s fingers as they intertwined. He squeezed gently, a silent message of admiration between them.

"Keep telling me about these cherry blossoms then,” Schofield said, leaning on his side and placing his free arm over Blake’s stomach. Blake regretfully had to let go so he could reach over from where they lay to pick more varieties.  
“Gonna make ya a pretty flower crown, you can wear it to scare off tha hun,” Blake joked, weaving together blossoms with his dirt-stained fingers. It was so incredibly delicate that Schofield wondered how those same fingers ever pulled a trigger on a gun. Schofield shut his eyes at the very thought of violence, listening to Blake mentioning the types he was putting together as the soft breeze brushed his face instead.

“Hey, hey, Schofield,” Blake gently stroked Schofield on the cheek with his pointer finger. Schofield awoke softly, relishing the lack of yelling awaking him.  
“Hmmmyeah?” Schofield mumbled, rubbing his eyes and resting his chin on Blake’s shoulder. He didn’t get an answer but he could feel Blake giggling underneath him, the motion shaking them both.  
“What?” Schofield sleepily mumbled, not quite alert enough to remember what they’d been doing before he slept.  
“Nothin’,” Blake said suspiciously and Schofield leaned up with a yawn, making a suspicious expression towards the younger man afterwards. When he saw Blake twiddling a petal between his fingers and his memory came out of its slumber, he figured it out.

“I have a flower crown around my helmet, don’t I?” Schofield deadpanned and Blake burst into cackles, nodding as he looked up. Schofield removed the headpiece gently, spinning it around and studying Blake’s work.  
“Might keep it on, take it ‘ome,” Schofield smiled, his eyes scanning over the neatly tied gift. Blake rolled his eyes and poked a finger into his boyfriend’s cheek, smearing more mud there.  
“You’re such a queer,” Blake teased but with a smile, leaning forward and smacking a kiss onto Schofield’s cheek, “mwah!”  
“Says you, mister flower crown?” Schofield replied, kissing Blake’s face all over to drag a smile out of him.  
“Ah give over,” Blake said, nudging his nose into Schofield’s face and laughing. Finally feeling at home and happy.

Suddenly he felt Schofield freeze up underneath him.  
“B-Blake, I-I think that plane j-just dropped a bomb on us,” Schofield suddenly sounded extremely rushed.  
"W-What?!” Blake rushed, going to get up. Schofield grabbed his shoulder and yanked him down, that was when it dawned on him that there was nowhere to go, nowhere to run or hide. He curled into Schofield and gripped him.

“You’re still wearin' flowers,” Blake teased, his voice quivering and his eyes wet.  
“I always will for you,” Schofield managed a shaky smile, leaning down and pressing a kiss against his forehead just as the boom rocked the ground and sent dust cascading down on them in a wave.  
“I-I’m scared Will, d-don’t let go,” Blake whispered in the blackness, nearly choking on chalky dust. Schofield managed to pull his arm free with a whimper, running a trembling finger across Blake’s cheek in comfort. “Nothing to be scared of Tom, my love, I’m right here. Just go to sleep now, nice and gentle.” Schofield whispered, pulling Blake in with the last of his strength.


End file.
